


We All Make Trades

by UptheBoards



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UptheBoards/pseuds/UptheBoards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There once was a gorgeous little piece of art that started this all. . .</p><p>James Neal and Brenden Morrow are reunited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Make Trades

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Neal/Morrow](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/19873) by Orpikjam44. 



> I wasn't sure how far to take this so, I pretty much took it all way. Pretty explicit, not going to lie. No offense is intended to anyone in any way, I just need to get this brain worm out. Not beta'd, but hopefully enjoy :D

April 21.

The closer April 3rd gets, the more James Neal reflects on his own trade. To say his move to the Pittsburgh Penguins had changed his life would be underselling it. When James tried to picture himself back with the Stars, almost nothing felt right about it anymore. Sure there were different faces, but that wasn’t really it, he still knew some of the vets were there like Morrow, Eriksson and Robidas. And of course Benn, his main competition in Dallas. No, what felt wrong was that HE was different. 

James wasn’t the shy rookie trying to make a name for himself in a comparatively small market. He was an all-star now, a Pittsburgh Penguin, he played with the greatest hockey players in the world on a nightly basis. Their captain was Sidney Fucking Crosby.

“Hey Nealer, you in there?” Speak of the devil; Sidney was standing next to James’ stall, hazel eyes studying the young winger. “Fuck, I’m sorry Sid, what did you say?”

“Shero needs to talk with you.” Sid turns to leave but James grabs his wrist, “Seriously? Less than 2 weeks to the deadline and Shero wants to talk to me?” Sid shrugs his shoulders, always the pacifist and pulls away from James. “Is it bad?” James calls after him. He watches Sid’s back until he’s falls out of sightlines and James has to commit himself to visiting Shero’s office.

“Fuck. I got fucking traded. I’m playing like shit so I got fucking traded,” he thinks. “That has to be it. Somehow, someway Shero has traded me, he probably got someone like fucking Iginla.”

“I’m going to be a fucking Flame.”

“Fuck.”

James tries to shut out his inner monologue as he knocks on Shero’s door and heads inside.

April 23.

James has been sitting on his phone, literally, since Thursday. When he gets the confirmation from Sid, James nearly rips his pocket pulling the iPhone out. His hands are shaking and thank god for auto correct or he’d have to just send emoticons. 

 

To: BMizzle

YOU’RE A MOTHERFUCKIN’ PENGUIN! CALL ME ASAP.

Please.

 

He dances from one foot to the next waiting for the reply. The two minutes it takes for a reply feels like an hour, maybe two. 

 

From: BMizzle

Little busy, talk later.

 

James’ stomach turns, not exactly what he was hoping for. Sure it had been a while between texts, but James hadn’t realized that they were on that bad of terms.

 

April 24.

 

From: BMizzle

Good time to call?

 

To: BMizzle

Always

 

April 25.

James doesn’t think he takes foot off the accelerator even once on the way to the airport, not even Pittsburgh traffic can dampen his excitement. He has even been granted the luxury of being late to practice, those are few and far between.

James even has a sign, “Mini Mo,” to hold up like a professional driver. Sure it’s early as sin, the airport will be nearly empty and Brenden is coming in through a private entrance, but those are minor details. 

Once inside James takes back to shifting his weight from foot to foot and chewing his lip. He regrets the sign and looks for a garbage can, but just as he turns on his heels the doors slide open and a familiar looking brunette is striding towards him. James will say he didn’t, but he runs towards the older man and pulls him into a bone crushing hug. He can feel Brenden laughing, the rumble resonating through his chest too. James fingers the soft curls at the nape of Brenden's neck that he's missed so much, and holds on, trying to keep his friend as close as possible. Eventually they do separate, but James stays tight to Brenden’s side, looking sideways to make sure this is real. Every time he does he sees Brenden’s wide smile.

Practice and the media scrum are all a blur to James and he knows it's because Brenden is the only thing he's thinking about. James and Niski had diplomatically done rock, paper and scissors at the rink to decide who Brenden would stay with while he got settled, but everyone knew it was James all along.

Once they’re home, James leads Brenden around, still looking back over his should to check that it’s real. He shows Brenden a few rooms that he can stay in, and he chooses one that is adjacent to Neal’s master.

Knowing it must be a lot to deal with, James leaves Brenden to 'get settled' and grabs two beers from the fridge before he heads back a few minutes later.

“Do you need any help?” James asks, holding the beers up.

“More than you know!”

They settle in beside each other, sitting shoulder to shoulder with their backs against the large wooden foot-board of the bed. James allows himself to lean lightly into his friend, just like they used to. When James had been a rookie, one of the things he missed most was the physical contact, ironic in a game like hockey. The Whalers had all felt like a family, they would sit on the couch together and nobody knew who that foot or elbow belonged to. These NHL guys were rough and tough men who spat and grunted and would rather take a Chara puck to the face then hug off the ice. 

James was sitting in his stall well after the game had ended taping and re-taping a stick. He’d scored a goal on the power play with the only assist going to the team Captain Brenden Morrow. Morrow had tackled James to the ice and even defended the rookie later in the game with an opposing player had chirped him about his “useless goal.” They’d lost, so that guy was right. James felt ashamed, he’d celebrated like it was big deal and made a fool of his team.

The rookie didn’t even notice anyone come back into the locker room until someone was pushing him sideways and sliding into the locker stall with him.

“What’s up, kid?” It was Morrow, all casual charm, but one big man. James stays silent and continues to pick at a loose fiber stuck in the tape. Morrow closes a large hand over both of the rookies’, stilling his movements. James looks up, meeting the Captain’s gaze. There’s an easy smile pulling at the older winger’s lips and James can’t help but feel like everything will work out. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

Morrow actually laughs, “For what?” 

“I made us all look like dicks and we lost.”

“Kid, I made you celebrate that goal, that was your first power play goal!” He bumps into James' shoulder. “I know what it feels like to be you, well, not you because I wasn’t that good, but you get it. You never know how long you’ll be playing this game, so treat each goal like it’s your first.” He bumps James again and gets up to leave. “Wanna go get a steak with your Captain?” 

The rookie had been taken with Morrow after that, and started to model his game after the gritty forward on and off the ice. By the end they were inseparable, a light and dark side of the same coin. The Captain and the Kid.

James studies Brenden as he’s talking, he’s telling a story about a crazy game against the Blackhawks. He has his head tipped back against the bed so his adam’s apple bobs noticeably with each word. James follows the long lines of Brenden’s neck down to his chest, studying the small snippet of skin that an unbuttoned shirt provides. Brenden definitely looks bigger and stronger than James remembers, harder than he was before. James wonders what he is using to bulk up and makes a note to ask later. He’s more tan too, James thinks, his skin is golden and freckled; Brenden seems to radiate heat. James wonders if the Pittsburgh winter is finally getting to him.

James threads his right arm around Brenden’s back and lets his hand rest on a patch of skin exposed by a ruched up shirt. It feels good. Brenden has always been a safe harbor. James knew there was something missing from his house, even after he’d bought some furniture. This might be it. James relaxes into the other man’s body heat, the right side of his chest flush with his friend’s back. He breathes deep, pulling that familiar but unidentifiable scent deep inside. They stay like that for awhile, Brenden’s hand massaging small circles in James thigh while he updates James on all things West. 

“You’re bigger,” James says suddenly and before he can stop himself his left arm is reaching out and his fingers are stroking down the outside of his friend’s thigh. Brenden turns towards James, “Yeah, so are you Kid!” He moves his hand from James’ thigh and fists it in the mop of brown strands that James calls a flow and affectionately tugs. “I have to chase you around the rink, don’t I?” 

James laughs, “You chase me, and I’m chasing Sid. And hey, don’t touch the hair.” James means to push Brenden, but when he does, his hand slips from the older man’s thigh and lands squarely on his crotch.

James pulls his hand back, but not before he feels the hard lines of Brenden’s semi-erect cock. “Fuck, I’m sorry! I was trying to…” “Cop a feel?” Brenden cuts in. His voice is flat and toneless. 

James start to panic, not a good way to start a reunion, pissing off you’re new teammate by assaulting him. “No! No I’m not. . .I wouldn’t . . .unless. . “ James mumbles the last part under his breath, barely audibly. He starts to pull away from Brenden, but the ex-Star grabs his wrist and pulls James back until they’re flush again. 

Brenden’s face splits as he breaks into a laugh, “Hey, hey, I was joking, Kid! When did you get so nervous?” 

“I’m sorry,” James mumbles, more embarrassed now than he had been initially. “I don’t want to fuck this up.” He rests his head on Brenden’s shoulder, but not before digging his chin in a bit in retaliation.

“What do you mean ‘fuck this up?’” Brenden inquires, turning suddenly to look at James. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” the young winger answers. “I can’t do it again.” Brenden expected to have to fight James to get an honest answer, but when he sees the expression on James’ face as he says it, his stomach drops.

“I’m right here James, “ Brenden is still holding onto James’ wrist so as he lets go, threads their fingers together and then guides their hands up to rest over his heart. “I’m not going anywhere, Kid.”

“I’m sorry,” James says again, his breath ghosting over Brenden’s neck. 

“I’m sorry too,” his friend says back. Brenden leans towards James until their foreheads meet, “I’m sorry for letting you go,” he answers. 

The day James had left, Brenden had shaken his hand and said good luck. Nothing more, nothing less. James had been crushed, though until now he hadn’t said anything to anyone about it. They’d been such close friends; Brenden was like a big brother to him. It was embarrassing to admit, but since that night in the stall James had stuck to Brenden, idolized him even. He wouldn’t be the player he was without that influence; he probably wouldn’t have even managed to stay pro.

They both stay silent for a while, each thinking back on times long lost.

“Hey. Captain. . .” James is the first to break the silence, of course.

He slowly runs his left hand down Brenden’s chest, gaining pressure the lower he gets. He doesn’t stop when he hits the waistband of Brenden’s sweats, he pushes underneath the band and wraps his fingers around his cock. 

Brenden gasps and tilts his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Kid, what are you doing?” He asks before a moan escapes as James twists his wrist just right. 

James doesn’t say anything, but guides Brenden’s hand to his groin. That should serve as an answer; James had been hard since they’d hugged at the airport.

The older man snaps his head sideways to fully look at James when he feels the thick weight under his palm and applies a little pressure. This time it’s James’ turn and he plays the part beautifully; a moan slips past his lips and he starts to flush, the tint creeping up his neck. “You’re so cute!” Brenden exclaims.

He doesn’t give James the time to respond though and instead leans in and lightly kisses his friend’s lips. They both freeze, neither sure of how real the moment was, but Brenden feels James’s lips moving against his own and time starts to move again. James uses his freehand to grab a fistful of Brenden’s curls and tilts his head back again, causing the elder to moan and grant access inside his mouth. James explores every inch with his tongue, probing and tasting, reveling in the physical contact he’s been so starved of. When they break apart, both are breathless and panting.

A soft moan curls it’s way out of Brenden’s kiss swollen lips with a deft flick of James' wrist and he bucks his hips forward, eager for more. James wants to swallow the noise; he wants to hear it over and over again. He wants to be the only one that can cause Brenden to make that noise. He swipes his thumb through the pre-come gathering on Brenden’s cock head and there it is, that little mewl again, high and desperate. 

James moves away from Brenden entirely and he can’t help but shiver from the loss of body heat, but it’s worth it. At least he hopes it will be. He scoots down and then pushes Brenden’s knees apart so he can settle between, one knee pressing into Brenden’s groin. He runs his hands from knee to hip and back down, massaging his friend as he goes.

“How you do doing, Captain?” James asks, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

Brenden knows exactly what the younger man is asking, “I’m not gonna last much longer with that stupid porn-star look on your face, Kid.” James does look the part, his hair is casually cool mused, his lips are slick and red, pupils blown, dick straining at his sweats. James swats Brenden’s knee, but leans forward and crushes their lips together. The kiss is savage and wanton. All teeth and stubble. James settles back on his heels and resumes his ministrations, except he lingers on Brenden’s hips, his hands idly skimming along the sweat pant waistband.

He doesn’t look at Brenden’s face, but watches his chest, the rapid rise and fall, the wrinkles in the fabric where it’s tacky with sweat. 

“I haven’t done this before, you know, with a guy,” James admits, the flush creeping back into his neck.

“It’s fine James,” Brenden covers both of James hands with his own and intertwines their fingers, “I’m going to come just from looking at you like this.”

“Wait,” James says, smirk coming back, “but you’ve been with other guys before?” 

Brenden laughs and squeezes his knees together, squishing James in between, “Do you think I fuck every rookie that comes through? No I’ve never fucked around with a guy before.”

“Good.” James loops a finger under each side of the waistband and quickly pulls the sweats off when Brenden lifts his hips. As James settles back between his friend’s legs, he loops an arm under each of Brenden’s knees and forces the wingers legs wider, leaving him open and exposed.

James hovers over Brenden’s dick briefly, but before the older man has a chance to make a joke about it, James has taken the entire length in and now has his nose resting on Brenden’s pelvis. 

“FUCK.” Brenden loses his breath and tilts his head back, eyes wide and mouth open. He grips the carpet as much he can and is glad James is still holding his legs, otherwise he would have bucked up from the shock of it.

James quickly establishes an alternating rhythm of long slow pulls and shorter, teasing sucks and Brenden does all he can to not thrust up into that hot and pliant mouth

“Holy fuck,” he looks back down at James. The fucker is smiling around his cock, obviously waiting for approval. James pulls off completely, spit still connecting his mouth to Brenden’s dick. 

“Is that what you want, Captain?”

Brenden doesn’t answer, he grabs James by the back of the head and pushes him back down, James instead mouths at his balls, taking each one into his mouth separately. He then laps at Brenden’s hole, swirling his tongue along the pink puckered flesh. “That’ll work too,” the older man manages between moans. James starts to come back up, licking a strip from taint to tip and takes only the head into his mouth. He lets his teeth sit lightly along the ridge of furled skin, just enough of a threat.

He looks up to catch Brenden’s gaze, wondering if he’s even doing this right at all. His friend is biting his lip, head thrown back and has a hand fisted in his own shirt. He feels James’ eyes on his own and looks down, gaze slightly unfocused; he’s still trying not to cant up into that warm heat. “Fuck Kid, what do they teach you in Pittsburgh?” 

He feels James hum around his dick, probably laughing and Brenden keens at the sensation. James twirls his tongue around the crown before taking the head into his mouth and sucking hard, tongue working the bundle of nerves just beneath the head. He then turns his attention to the leaking slit, laving at it and the droplets he knows are forming there. When Brenden mewls again high in his throat, he dips his tongue in and out, swallowing all of the salty pre-come. 

James slowly swallows the length of Brenden’s cock again, drawing the process out as he goes inch by inch, tonguing the large vein on the underside of Brenden’s cock along the way. This time Brenden does buck up and James chokes when his cock hits the back of his throat. He doesn’t pull off, but looks to his idol again, eyes wide.

Brenden nearly comes. The noise and the visual, it’s too much. He can’t even count the amount of times he has fantasized about this, exactly this. His cock down James’ throat gagging him, those full pink lips stretched wide around him, his nose buried in the dusting of hair at the base of Brenden’s cock. “Okay, Kid?” He asks, breathing heavily. Neal nods. Brenden cants his hips again, this time slower so James can pull off slightly. When he stays still, Brenden takes the hint. He grips onto James’ hair and starts to thrust into his mouth. Their positioning is a bit off, so when James gets gagged a few more times and when Brenden starts to feel the burn in his abs as he’s still in a seated position, they slow the place.

James feels Brenden’s body jerk underneath him and he quickly pulls off causing his new teammate to gasp at the sudden loss of heat. He lets go of Brenden’s legs before straightening up and getting back into a kneeling position, again pressing a knee back against Brenden. He knew the older man was close, probably only one more thrust close and he can see the objection building. James quickly cuts him off.

“I wanted this so bad that night. I wanted to kneel down and suck your cock while you were in my stall. I wanted you to grab my hair and hold me still while you fucked my throat. Fuck I wanted it.” 

James’ right hand has drifted down his hips and he’s slowly pushing down his sweats and hooking a finger in his boxer briefs as they go down too. He frees his hard cock from the layers of fabric, the head is red and weeping. He strokes himself roughly a few times before smearing pre-come on his length to ease the friction.

“I wanted you to come on my face while I looked up at you. Mark me as yours.” 

Brenden makes to grab his own now neglected dick, but James swats his hand away.

“I’d have let you fuck me too, right there. I’d have sat on your fat cock and let you stretch me open. I couldn’t look at you whenever I was in my stall because that’s all I thought about.”

James looks away from his friend and instead looks down at his own body. Brenden stays silent, but his mouth is slack, and his eyes are locked on the display in front of him. James lets go of himself so he can quickly pull off his shirt and as he does, his cock drips onto Brenden’s. Fuck if that doesn’t nearly send him over. James grips his own cock again, except he’s also now smoothing a hand up and down his abs.

“I would have sucked you off in front of everyone,” When James looks up, Brenden can see the fire there, the flames licking at his insides. “I would have let you fuck me in front of them too.”

“You’re my Captain,” James whispers and grips Brenden’s muscled thighs with white knuckles. Electricity courses through him, sharp barbs shooting into his brain and into his gut. He's tingling everywhere, in every muscle and it’s as if he’s just touched his tongue to a battery. He covers Brenden’s stomach with pearly spurts as the shock waves pass through, draining him. “Fuck,” he curses, dropping his chin to his chest.

James looks up when his breathing starts to even out, “Come on my face,” he says suddenly. His voice is raw and fucked up and there is sweat dripping down his chest. Brenden doesn’t need to be asked twice. He sits up a little straighter to get a better angle and uses James’ come to slick up his cock. That and the debauched brunette between his legs is about all it takes; Brenden comes with a harsh bark, shooting over James’ lips and cheeks. His back is bowed, every muscle straining. The blood is thundering in his ears and somewhere in the distance he can hear James’ voice, can feel James hands on his body. Brenden gasps for air as spasms rack through him again. Fuck, it's lasting forever. When he comes down and can start to see clearly, it only gets better. James’ tongue is poking out of his mouth, like usual, except he’s licking Brenden’s come off his lips and the corners of his mouth. 

“Come ‘er, Kid,” Brenden rasps, pulling James’ hips towards himself. “Bossy Captain, aren’t you?” James chides and pulls away from his friend. He bends down and blows air over Brenden’s softening cock before he gathers the come splattered there into his mouth. 

Brenden groans when James sucks his over-stimulated cock into his mouth again, he grabs James hair this time and pulls the younger man up. When their lips come together, James slides the come into Brenden’s mouth, letting his friend taste them both. It’s not bad Brenden thinks, it’s a bit weird but fuck, it’s hot. Brenden licks into James mouth and he tightens his hold in James hair, keeping them together. It’s only when they’re both heaving that they separate. James climbs over Brenden and resumes his position tucked in beside the newest Penguin. 

Yes, this is home.


End file.
